


How Unkind The Ticking

by SaltBud (Culttherapy)



Category: The Wicked Years Series - Gregory Maguire, Wicked - All Media Types, Wicked - Schwartz/Holzman
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-01-29 19:22:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21415366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Culttherapy/pseuds/SaltBud
Summary: A story that posits that Glinda, not Fiyero, is the one to find and follow Elphaba home in the Emerald City years after she fled Shiz. A bit of both the book and stage play worlds. Smut with a dash of plot and angst. Chapter two up now! Enjoy!
Relationships: Elphaba Thropp & Galinda Upland, Elphaba Thropp/Galinda Upland
Comments: 4
Kudos: 60





	1. Chapter 1

Rage seethed through her, melting into the crispness of her bones, her hard angles and taught, drumming skin. This nitwit before her, this beautiful brain captured and suppressed behind beautiful curls, behind perfect, pretty lashes and drowning pools of eyes infuriated her so. Somehow, tactlessly and shamelessly, this creature from her past had drudged itself up and discovered her. Her history had the audacity to smile behind her impeccably pinked lips, straight white teeth glittering like shells in the cast of moonlight. 

Elphaba hated her and adored her simultaneously, a fire stoked and growing low in her belly. It rose in her as a growl and she surged forward and for an instant the smile faltered, a glimmer of fear and excitement commingling as green met pink in one hard swoop. Urgently, desperately, Elphaba pressed the shorter woman back until the soft thunk of dress and coat on wood signaled the meeting of the wall. Cool lake water spilled up at her. The flightiest of gasps parted the gentle, plump lips.

“Elphie-“ 

She smothered the rest of the words from the blonde, pinning their bodies flush together. She herself couldn’t breath properly, not with the look striking at her from that immaculate face. Hurt and terror and fury fought for space within her.

“Five years.” The words came out as snakes that crawled and clotted around the ringlets of gold and into Glinda’s ear. 

Her eyes glittered and the shyness of a new smile broke across her features. 

“You kept the hat.” The sorceress nearly reached up to tip it on the silky black head above her, her eyes squinting with bittersweet memory.

The green girl, woman now, searched her face for a pregnant, crackling moment, calculating before the attack. 

Elphaba’s lips were soft and salted, first uncontrolled and messy before correcting themselves into the most intentional, plaintive, searing kiss she’d ever donned. 

Glinda’s hands moved without thought as green spiders trailed across her flesh, one to cup the curved ridge of her jaw, the other pulling her impossibly closer to the lithe body against hers. She mirrored them, carving the pointed edges of Elphaba’s features, her beauty settled in with age into a becoming emerald sculpture. In an instant Glinda decided she would happily worship humbly at this statue’s verdant feet. 

Breath passed between them with the flicking of tongues, the sharpness and cunning of Elphaba’s deliciously put to use at something less brackish than insults and wit. Glinda melted despite herself. 

Everything smelled of the soft and warm powder puff of the room they’d shared so long ago at Shiz; the gentle aromatics of Glinda’s youth and particularity, roughened at the edges by oils and parchment, by glistening green skin. 

Elphaba pulled away and cursed, a dirty, frothy, hungry word twisting in her throat, catching her in a desirous fumble of air. Her hips none the less pressed against Glinda’s.

When she looked up again she seemed nearly timid, like it had only just occurred to her what her body had demanded her to do. As though suddenly the weight of 5 years settled hard and squarely on her pinching, boney shoulders and she wasn’t sure she could carry their heft. Glinda felt her heart pucker and twist, it’s ventricles constricting to bursting. How had she not known until now?

Slowly her hand trailed up a jagged hip bone, across a cloaked flank that shuddered against her fingers, to trace the lace of a bodice that climbed tightly between two small and heaving breasts to rest, pink and smart, on the vulnerable green chin. 

She tilted it lightly downward, nearing the soft pearly skin of Elphaba’s face with her breath.

“I’m here now.” 

Questions flickered like candle light in the witch’s dark honeyed eyes, the shield of her mind raising like a flowers head turning to the sun. Distrust, vulnerability and aplomb. Glinda’s palm flattened against a hard green cheekbone and the shield faltered beneath the warm touch. 

“Don’t disappear yourself away from me again Elphie. Not now, not in your own snare.”

She gathered green knuckles into her own, gently leading the blind to grasp at her waist, to hum and rub gently over the curve of her breast. 

“And if you don’t kiss me like that again I’ll strike us both dead.” 

Something dark and unholy glittered over Elphaba’s features and she caught Glinda’s breath between her teeth. Glinda had forgotten how magnificent this woman was, how boiled cabbage and sweet water and earthen. 

The hand she had led from shyness wantonly stroked at her through the thick winter material of her dress, teasing and guileless in its pursuit to cause pleasure and she found herself reaching up and behind, her coat racking to the ground as her fingers played with the buttons at her nape. Dusky olive lips released her mouth suddenly and she crooned into the cold night air, pink tongue and pointed teeth chewing and soothing at her neck in alternating caresses. 

Elphaba led herself further down and nibbled at the long cord of a collar bone when finally the bodice of Glinda’s dress loosened, exposing the snowy rounds of breast beneath, peaking with petalled, blushed nipples already hardened in anticipation. A searching powdery hand traced the line of her back and encouraged Elphaba lower. Looking up she waited, breath warming the plain of a pale breastplate, a hard flat of skin and bone. Glinda met her gaze unfalteringly and shone back what glistened in the brown below. Slowly Elphaba righted, lips pressed tenderly to the flesh between and above filling lungs and swung, with the trace of her tongue to take up a nipple into her hot mouth. 

The sound Glinda made in response tore her to bits. Eager fingers clung and dug into her shoulders, demanding her to swoop and crouch as Glinda pressed her chest forward into the waiting lips that greeted it. Elphaba hummed into the warm skin, slicking it with the moisture of her mouth. Digits twitched and searched, her fingers busying themselves with a hunt for the hem of the damned, cursed dress that clung almost as devoutly to Glinda’s frame as she herself did. Finally a brush of skin and skin, a trace of knee and palm, heated, creamy wilderness of thigh. 

Elphaba rose to full height, dragging cushions of fingertips with her ascension to the crux of Glinda’s legs, a radiating warmth welcoming them as she pressed gently to fabric. The blonde looked hazy, as though lost in pillows of clouds for only a moment before she leaned upward, rewarding Elphaba’s seeking gaze with a kiss so ripe it nearly spoiled on her lips. 

Parting from her the green woman met her stare and dropped, like the floor had departed from beneath a great weight and as she fell Glinda’s delicate grasp reached and tightened around the old crooked hat, velveteen and like an anchor in her hands. It stilled, suspended in her grip above the beautiful onyx head as though floating midair. The thud of Elphaba’s knees against the old floorboards sucked the air from the room. With her descent Glinda’s underthings joined to expose the growing temperature of her desire to the cold room, to the balmy heat of Elphie’s breath. 

The hat fluttered from her as silken tongue grazed the curling forest of hair that covered her. A green hand shone milky and brittle, exquisite and strong against the cornflower folds of her dress, pressing it against her taught stomach and out of the way. The tongue dipped deeper and she felt herself dither as it found it’s target between glossy flushed folds. The sensation was that of bonfires and stars, great sparks and lying flat on the bottom of the ocean, so sunk and excited that it was impossible to breath. 

The taste of her was indescribably luscious, an intoxication Elphie hadn’t known she had longed for, needed too deeply to describe her want for it. The squirm, the writhe of the body above her, no, of Glinda above her, maddened her, made her want nothing more in life than to dip over and over again between these peach thighs. They each moaned and growled in turn, nonsense words slipping from the dazzling mind of the woman she touched. Her tongue tipped and bladed, bending and cupping around the bundle of nerves presented to her to then dive deep into the channel below, the sensation of which caused Glinda’s knees to weaken and buckle. Her hips ground and bucked and chased the feeling. 

The hand Elphaba had placed on her stomach to hold the skirts of her dress pressed harder to hold her against the wall as the other tickled up the back of a strong thigh to steady the slackening. Louder above her, Elphaba chanced a look skyward to catch the loosened jaw, the scrunch of muscle in the forehead as the cerulean eyes struggled to concentrate on her, the sheen of exertion and elation that made her cheeks look powdered and glittered. The adoration and craving hidden in those soft features, the desire to come undone but by Elphaba only. 

She flicked harder, faster, then placidly, a flattened tongue strung across flesh to then peak and press at her tenderest part until wildly and shakingly Glinda unraveled in Elphaba’s mouth, a final groan, the chords, the measure and melody of Elphaba’s name on her voice. Slowly, sorely, Elphaba lessened her grip, her glossed lips lazily forming the workings of a smile as the weakling sorceress crumpled like an unsteady doll down to her, into her waiting arms. 

“Five years.” She mumbled this time, her face hidden in the knots of frazzled and worked gold, the breath of her own lungs rhyming with the heave of the blonde’s chest, their lungs filling simultaneously and lovingly. Together.

“Five, terrible, wicked years.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I wanted to write a follow up, and it had occurred to me that maybe I could make a longer story out of this. If that's something any of you would be interested in please let me know!

When the weave and weft of their crackling lungs settled and the moon lapped at them from higher in its perch they finally stirred. Glinda, chilled in the exposure of the now quiet night made to pull the cleft of her frock up around her but was caught in a tangle of chartreuse fingers. 

“I like you this way.” Elphaba’s voice was jagged and rough with action and want. The pad of a green thumb lazily edged over a still sensitive nub of breast and a peel of shuddering tore through Glinda. 

“And I too, were it not for this disastrous, drafty loft.” Her gaze swept lazily from small table to clumped, swaddled nest of bed, to the cusp of something white and blossoming. From behind the cotton ball of cream a leg bloomed into a wide, glorious expanse of moving snow. Slowly it took the form and aspect of a cat, glossed and silvery in moonbeams. 

“How quaint, you’ve an animal.” The body behind her shifted and disentangled, the exhaustion of the heat between them sudden and offending. She felt freshly more nude than if she had been totally disrobed, longing to be dressed again in the green expanse of arms, tucked into the fabric of Elphaba. 

“A companion, Malky.” She said the name by way of introduction and summoning and from it’s spotlight of moon-glow the cat swaggered toward her. Glinda didn’t know wether she or the cat was the companion referred to.

“I’m surprised,” Elphie’s tongue tittered, wobbled from the pleasurable strain of their exercise as she knelt to stroke the languid beast, “that you haven’t yet accused him of my familiar, as I’ve bewitched myself in your absence.” A toothy grin split her handsome face and she looked suddenly like a harpy, a bitterness within her like an ember. 

“In _my_ absence? You forget yourself Elphie. It was you who abandoned me, with that wretched terror of a woman who sat on my skirts and with whom I had to share a bed, that I had hoped to share with you,” her voice sizzled, “on that third class horror ride back to Shiz.” 

“Oh, but had I joined you it would have been a first class horror show.” Despite the stinging bite of her words the post of a woman gathered shabby blankets from her bedding to drape around peachy shoulders. As though a stalking Tiger, Elphaba lowered with the grace she had neglected in her earlier fret and gently, almost tentatively pulled the unbound fabric of dress from Glinda’s skin. Stripping back like the peel of an orange the frock was dismissed in a heap and replaced with the prickly swath of old wool. 

Unbiddened, Glinda doubled forward, her lips glancing a blow along a patch of emerald green revealed beneath Elphaba’s skirts.

“Your knees will be bruised from earlier.” It was as though she could taste the blood pooling beneath the verdigris. 

“_Purple_ also goes good with green.” The unveiled smugness of the comment sent an itching into Glinda’s lips like a plague, the inclination of which was to press them firmly to every inch of the witch. 

When satisfied with the draping Elphaba stood and appraised her, the shock of milk white between breast and blanket and the crux of legs, hidden behind a folded knee. She looked like a living strip of moonlight. 

For a heart stopping moment of rush, for all of her, Glinda thought that Elphaba would begin to undress, was going to gift her with the slowed-time thrill of exposing iridescent skin, but when her verdant hands grasped the fraying edges of her dress she merely tucked them towards her thighs to make ease of sitting on the hardwood floor across from Glinda. She folded tightly against herself as she had so often done at Shiz, a jagged, jutting ridge of breathing peaks. A flash of undergarments peered at Glinda from between green ankles. 

“You’re not..?” it was a questioned tipped on the edge of her lips but it evaporated into the dusty space between them, Elphaba’s glare killing it with a single blow. They were quiet for a protracted stay, the wind murmuring it’s rapping and chittering against the skylight of the ramshackle room. Glinda slipped the shoes from her feet. 

In the pearlescent light something shadowed and broken flitted over Elphaba, alone with her thoughts for too long, the shade of whatever it was so deep and present it was as though something had stepped between them. 

“How did you find me?” It sounded like she had swallowed a fist full of pebbles, her voice scraping and tracing, trying to escape burial. 

Elphaba’s back was board straight and rising, a pretty tower with a far-off backdrop of kitchen cabinets and stalking beast, Malky’s ghostly form swatting about at flurries of dust behind her.

Glinda had never seen the green girl shed a tear, and doubted she would now despite the wetness in her throat, and for an instant the curse of water, the hatred and repulsion of it that burrowed in the witch, her allergy, came back to her memory. Glinda envisioned her with paths of umber flame trailing from her eyes. 

She knew, with an unwavering certainty, and as though struck by a hand, that her rediscovery of Elphaba meant something darker than the chance to touch, to finally ignite the kindling they each carried. It meant danger, it meant the uncloaking of a heavy, violent secret that stole Elphie’s safety and submerged Glinda into a world she didn’t even know the surface of. 

“My sweet, mean, thing, what have you gotten yourself into?” The compulsion to reach out, to grasp and coddle overcame her and she moved to kneel forward. When her shins felt bitten by the slanted floor Elphie retracted from her like a creature assaulted, a flicker of anger marring her sharp face. 

“It is not you who is allowed to ask questions Glinda, I reserve that right as you’ve intruded on my space, in my home, after I’ve worked so damn hard to keep to myself, to keep you and the others safe from me.” The fire now came from within her nettled mouth and Glinda watched, spellbound as a single tear did escape the warm brown eyes and with a singeing feather of steam, it rolled across a green cheek. She had not noticed the sheath of the warm blanket had crept from her flesh, bare breasted and thrilled. 

Anger exploded in her and she felt wild. It snapped at her, bared teeth and claws, as it directed inward and outward. At the woman huddled before her in what she finally understood as fear and ignorant, self-effacing pride and at her own hopeful, naive abandon at finding the witch.

Elphaba promptly wished herself to disintegrate, to go out in tendrils of smoke and moon-shafts and to be loose in the breezes that tangled around the archways and towers of the Emerald City. She could not help but to ruin herself. Frustration stole the air from her in a vice grip, so close to smoke, so near to ending.

Glinda reacted quickly, ascending to all of her tiny height to loom above, matching Elphaba’s rigidity and sternness of brow. 

“Surely you don’t presume to treat me like this, nude as such and having melted to cream in your hands just moments ago. You cannot intend to interrogate me when I’ve so many questions for you that demand answering that my head should nearly spin atop my shoulders right now before you.” The wind flew from her like a squall forced through the Kells. It was met in equal measure by Elphaba’s sudden fury. She made to stand, to thrust her heels into the ground and rise to the intimidating height she had on the Gilikinese woman. Instead she was caught on the shoulder by a thunderous grip and shove that sunk her back to the floor with a wump. A yip of surprise escaped her before it could be stopped and her cheeks darkened into a piney jade. 

“Enough from you.” She spat the words upward, mere inches from the blonde’s face, volleying the words like darts, eyes wide and challenging. Another hand mirrored its partner on the opposite shoulder and she was weighted into stillness. 

“From me?” Sickeningly sweet, dripping rubies of words that Elphaba wished she could consume, drink in from the dangerous tract of Glinda’s tongue. 

“You’ve had enough of me already dear Elphie?” She was a serpent, suddenly strung up in the arms of a lush confidence. Elphaba flattened her hips, slinking backward in a scuttling effort to free herself from the grip, from the fresh pearls in Glinda’s gaze. Doubtlessly she could match the smaller woman in ferocity and strength, she knew she could fight, but perhaps, for the first time in her life she wasn’t sure she wanted to.

Still, instinctively her body carried her backward, the blonde trailing like a kite following its string and shortly she was pinned, hips straddled and shoulders clamped between beautiful fingers. Malky darted away from them and out of the kitchen, a shooting star in the dark dwellings. Elphaba’s mouth dusted, dry as a bone, her back wracking against the cabinets of her kitchen. Formerly pristine, pink lips, smudged and darkened to a pearly mauve from meeting green earlier dared smirk at her, dared twist into a holier-than-thou grin laced with threat. 

Slowly, as though easing a coffin into it’s warmed-earth grave Glinda descended toward her, gaze unfaltering and tongue flickering to trace her lip before pressing hard and unchastely against her. The desert of Elphaba’s mouth watered with unknown spring, like drinking from her namesake Saint’s waterfall. At once she wanted to drown in and stop it all together. Glinda’s fingertips dug into her shoulders harder, as though to tear her apart to muscle and bone. Her hips pressed downward, her knees slipping across the wooden floor until her bare center pressed satisfyingly against Elphaba’s skirts, affixing the green woman in place with a pleasurable jolt. 

Finally releasing a gaunt shoulder she let her hand crawl achingly across the cords of a tender neck, pulsing with breath and prospect. Lazily it dipped into the bowl of collarbone, dragging with a pulse of finger nail then thumb pad and length of finger to tuck between their bodies until it smoothed then pinched hard over a clothed breast. She felt the gasp from Elphaba on her tongue. 

Eagerly she let teeth sink into olive lip as she compelled the other hand behind the pinned woman, untying the bodice of her dress, the loosened garment leaving her skin in a wake of goosebumps. Glinda pulled the fabric lower, never misplacing her mouth from the witch’s, and pinched the woman’s hips to guide them upward so that she may pass the dress beneath and leave Elphaba stripped in the frigid air of the loft. As she passed the fabric beneath herself and between them she let the press of skin and fabric glance her heated flesh, leaving a trail of slick arousal on her hands and across the black fabric. A moan escaped her and drove into Elphaba’s waiting mouth. The witch returned in kind and tried to sit up, to gain access to the woman atop her, to transfer control of the situation into her own viridescent hands. 

Glinda pushed back harshly, bouncing Elphaba’s naked shoulders off of the creaking cabinet and grabbing hungrily, teasingly at green skin, her fingers skating up a trembling side to cup and massage the underside of her breast. She bore herself down harder, a stone in a dress pocket, sinking it’s owner down further beneath the world’s surface. She felt the witch’s breath hitch and used the sensation as permission to encircle a peaked nipple between thumb and forefinger and to pull gently. A sound deliciously uncontrolled tore from Elphaba, and her hips tried failingly to buck upward, seeking touch, relief, control. Achingly gentle, Glinda’s fingers circled the other, yet untouched nipple. 

She broke herself away from the kiss, lips longing to leave wet, pebbled trails along the emerald skin below her, but the pinked, puckering skin leading away from the smokey brown eye, left behind from Elphaba’s shed tear, glared at her. She felt suddenly the hesitation she had abandoned upon mounting the witch, an abrupt tenderness pulsing through her.

“Will this hurt you?” 

Carefully Elphaba’s hand cupped her cheek, it’s first real action since Glinda had straddled her. It slid so heel of palm met chin where she rested a single green digit, upon which Glinda gently deposited a kiss and slowly, eyes glittering and starry, Elphaba pushed past the swollen pink lips and slipped a slender finger against her tongue. The muscle lapped and swirled, teasing the digit and sucking until with a pop it was released, unscathed. Elphaba’s head gently swayed back and forth, a satisfied grin tugging at her. 

“The only substance of body that can hurt me are tears.” She licked her lips knowingly. “Everything else is harmless.” 

Needing no further assurances Glinda made to put her lips and tongue against anything they could pleasurably reach, but as she descended onto one of Elphaba’s breasts a hand crept between them, slick with her own saliva it dipped between her thighs. It teased and pleaded with her for only a moment before she caught a green wrist in her grip, pulling it away from her with a hiss. 

The chill of the air on Elphaba’s moistened fingers left her with a throbbing ache, need to feel the other woman come to bits in front of her, because of her again. She wanted to unravel the woman like a thread let loose from it’s spindle. 

Glinda’s marine eyes met deep mahogany and she tutted as though scolding a thief caught mid-act. 

“You’ve had your turn, and now I’ll have mine.” The self-righteous grin again marred her lips and with a quick movement she slid them both away from the kitchen counter and with a satisfying yelp Elphaba lay flattened on the kitchen floor, hands pinned to her sides in a creamy cinch. Glinda hovered above her, bare chest inches away from puffing green and she taunted them both with an agonizing descent until they lay flush together. She bent, letting the hot cave of her mouth warm the skin of Elphaba’s ear before sliding the tip of her red tongue along the shell of it. She felt a chill run through the other woman. 

Slowly she built a trail of kisses and heat across Elphaba’s neck, down the curve of one breast and then the other before closing teeth, gentle but daring, around a deep emerald nipple. 

Elphaba’s body felt as though suddenly alive for the first time, her spine becoming a bright, crackling, live wire, her fingertips thrumming with electricity. She wanted to explode into sparks and kindling, into a flame that would taper and die once its strength had dwindled. She needed to control and rule, to resist the growing temptation to allow herself this pleasure, to allow herself this woman. 

She growled, the sound an eruption of vibrato deep in her chest as she trembled beneath the blonde, who’s lips drew sorely away from her wetted nipple to blow, horridly and delectably onto the peak. She felt herself unwittingly tug against the restraint Glinda’s hand’s offered. The sorceress tittered, a light, kindly knowing laugh above her breastbone and swooping, the perfect, pretty face encompassed her view. 

“Elphaba, you stubborn, silly witch. I won’t do a thing you don’t want me to.”

Even as her words lovingly swept around her cheeks, into her ears, Elphaba felt Glinda’s hands release her wrists, felt them disrupt the air to their side. Before she could register the cold that made to replace the hold, she felt the chilled length of old ribbon, undoubtedly the measly streamer that had once tightened her bodice to her waist, encircle her wrist. Her eyes bolted to the woman above her, swinging around through space to be grounded by the teal that stared questioningly, lovingly down at her, the facade of arrogance gone as she communicated the question without sound. Then from her lips, “Elphaba please. Trust me.” 

Deep in her belly something twisted and broke and the heat that rose from its fragments consumed her. With a nod Elphaba promised to the blonde that she would, that she would never be able to betray the woman’s trust again, that she was to fall, unending into the trust she offered. The ribbon was swept beneath her tilted hips then tied to her other wrist and she let herself be restrained, helpless in the hands of the woman before her. 

She adjusted to the feel of her own weight confining her, to the pleasant weight of Glinda shifting from her stomach to settle between her knees. It drew her eyes from their focus on the moon, a white-blind eye in the skylight, to the rosy finger pads that tipped over her bare hips, over the sharp press of bone beneath verdant skin to sink into the dark curls that marked the meeting of her thighs. Her head languished behind her as the point of a finger edged against her most sensitive spot, the pulsing bundle sending her hips skyward in search of firmer contact. 

Slowly a second finger, then a third joined the first and swept through the curls, mimicking a tongue as they pressed and explored, nudging gently here and there to elicit pleasure. Elphaba groaned into the eaves of the loft, into the fabric of the building, the sound like an ancient call forgotten and luscious. Glinda wanted to hear it again and again until she was no more. 

Skilled, the fingers bumped and flitted, Glinda adjusting to straddle one thigh, grinding herself down onto it as a single finger circuited Elphaba’s entrance, her own moan escaping as she dipped slowly into the green woman. 

Elphaba’s hips tilted, swooning upward to pull the digit deeper and she cried out, throaty and relieved. Quickly a second finger joined the first and the breadth of the two spurred her pleasure into an encompassing state. Her throat bobbed, voice useless and unconscionable as the blonde worked inside of her. The feeling of it was caramel and smoke and she wanted to breathe it in and let it burst inside her, to destroy her. It seemed unsurpassable, the grinding satisfaction of the blonde thrusting into her until the tipped point of tongue, warm and slick, pulled at the nub between her lips. 

The shock of the initial touch nearly sent her tumbling, made her throat close and her voice stream high pitched and whining from her. Her wrists begged, torn and pulling against the feeble fabric, longing to touch Glinda, to dive into the smooth path’s between hair and scalp, to feel the edges of her jaws working against her. 

The heat of her, the pull and twitch inside of her made Glinda’s mouth water, her eyes roll. To be able to touch heaven whilst in Oz by simply touching this woman was a worship Glinda vowed to never again go without. It was a charm, a spell more powerful than she had ever been able to conjure, the pleasure of Elphaba Thropp. She moved, hungry for her own friction against Elphaba’s thigh and for the greed of the taught, straining muscles within Elphaba, burning to feel the witch peak with frenzy. 

The sensation of Glinda lapping, soft and hard alternating to create a delicious chorus of the slightest pain and the deepest pleasure overcame her, her head spinning and light as she dared peer down her own body to meet the blonde’s eyes. She watched, enamored at the strain of muscle, the tilting, repetitive motion of muscle in her shoulder as she thrust deeper into the green woman, the endeavor of her jaw and tongue a dancing muscle below her graceful cheek bone. She didn’t deserve it, hadn’t ever deserved it and despite the tremulous jolts it sent through her she restrained herself. 

As though reading her thoughts the blonde released herself from her depths and swept suddenly over her to hold her close, to let the fingers that had been inside of her push and pull intently against her bundle of nerves. Her other hand, gentle but intent, wrapped around the back of Elphaba’s neck, thumb pressing against green cheek as she held their foreheads together, kissing the witch achingly softly before opening her eyes again. The proximity forced Elphaba’s brown eyes closed. Glinda’s finger’s doubled their ministrations. 

“Elphie. Look at me.”

Blown pupils, black saucers rimmed with a gilded amber met her gaze, Elphaba’s cheeks a deeper emerald than Glinda had ever seen, her olive lips parting into a wistful ‘o’. 

“Elphie, please, for me. Come undone for me.” Her fingertips worked tenderly, pleadingly. 

It loosed the witch, sent her plunging into her own cavernous climax, her body shuddering in the arms of the sorceress. She was silent, pink mouth like a trap in her green face, eyes open and locked onto Glinda’s for as long as they could muster before closing tightly, thin lines splintering from their corners and at the edges of her mouth. Her breathing became ragged as her body slackened, her hands remaining as tight fists beside her. Gingerly, pale fingers worked at the knots that grew from the lush wrists, and rubbed at the reddened skin they left behind, the same fingers gently lifting weak, verdant hips so she could pull the green woman close, pull the ribbon away from her. 

Elphaba slowly came back to Oz, back to the shabby living quarters, to the moonlight and soft arms that encircled her bare waist. It felt like floating back to the ground from a cloud of steam, limbs loosened and sore. The black mop of her head, frizzed and sweat-soaked lifted, her body cradled in the lap of the sorceress, and she pressed her forehead to Glinda’s chin, sighing. 

“Tomorrow you’ll have to answer my questions.”

She could hear the smile in Glinda’s response. 

“And maybe the day after that you’ll have to answer all of mine.”


End file.
